


Dog

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affection, Dogs, Gift Fic, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: The dog, such as it was, seemed to be approximately twenty-four inches tall at the shoulder, with copper-coloured, curling fur that covered its body. Its tail was somewhat long, and it had ears that hung down either side of its long face, its eyes a deep and soulful brown, its nose black and shiny-wet.It panted.Drumknott held the animal’s gaze, and when it padded toward him, Drumknott neither drew back nor stepped closer, allowing it to choose the speed of its approach. It came up to Drumknott, peering up at him, and then sat back upon its haunches, its gaze expectant.
Relationships: Rufus Drumknott/Havelock Vetinari
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gayowyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayowyn/gifts).

> Chag Chanukkah sameach, Em!

The dog, such as it was, seemed to be approximately twenty-four inches tall at the shoulder, with copper-coloured, curling fur that covered its body. Its tail was somewhat long, and it had ears that hung down either side of its long face, its eyes a deep and soulful brown, its nose black and shiny-wet.

It panted.

Drumknott held the animal’s gaze, and when it padded toward him, Drumknott neither drew back nor stepped closer, allowing it to choose the speed of its approach. It came up to Drumknott, peering up at him, and then sat back upon its haunches, its gaze expectant.

“Hello,” Drumknott said, formally offering a hand.

Immediately, it pressed its snuffling nose to his palm, and he smiled somewhat, allowing two licks to his skin before he pressed his hand closer, stroking the top of the dog’s head as he came slowly down into a crouch. It moved closer, laying its chin upon his shoulder, and Drumknott wrapped his arms around the animal, stroking its back.

Its slightly dirty, tangled fur was consistent with Gaspode’s reporting of the creature as a stray. It smelled like railway dust, and Drumknott knew that it was no doubt leaving dirt and soot marked upon his robe and his skin, but he did not push it away.

He sat like that for some time, for the dog did not see fit to draw away from him, and so Drumknott continued stroking slow circles over its back, feeling the warmth that radiated from it, feeling its heartbeat beneath its chest.

“I will not take you home with me,” Drumknott said, “if you will not consent to bathe.”

The dog leaned back, looking at him pleadingly, but Drumknott kept his expression stern until it relented, falling against his lap and pressing its face against his belly, that Drumknott would play with its ears.

“Good,” Drumknott said.

\--

When Vetinari came into the little room down the corridor from his office, where he was informed Drumknott lay abed, he felt himself smile, just slightly. He had heard about the dog down by the railway tracks, the stray that had evaded Moist von Lipwig’s energetic attempts to capture her, and it seemed to him now that Drumknott had managed to capture her by means beyond Lipwig’s ability – no doubt silence and patience amongst those means.

The dog was freshly cleaned, her hair a burnished copper, her tail wagging neatly against Drumknott’s thigh as she turned her gaze upon Vetinari. She had lovely eyes. Mr Fusspot, at Vetinari’s side, moved arthritically forward, and when she rose from where she blanketed Drumknott’s entire body, she moved extremely delicately to greet him, leaning down her head to sniff Mr Fusspot’s bottom as he craned to sniff hers.

“I suppose you will be joining us, then?” Vetinari asked.

Shyly, she wagged her tail, taking a few steps forward, and Vetinari smoothed his palm over her head, smiling.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and as her tail wagged harder, he looked to Drumknott, who wheezed out a noise as Mr Fusspot landed not at all delicately upon his solar plexus, no doubt bruising his diaphragm in the process. “Are we keeping her, Drumknott?”

“We entered a verbal contract,” Drumknott mumbled sleepily, wrapping his arms loosely about Mr Fusspot’s rotund form and rolling onto his side, facing the other way. “So, yes.”

Chuckling quietly, Vetinari knelt to greet the dog properly, and she leaned against his chest without hesitation, her breathing even, her body warm. Her nose was cold where she attempted to shove it beneath his collar and, failing this, chose to shove it against his chin instead.

They could decide on a name, Vetinari mused, later on.


End file.
